The Sound Of Silence
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: Walter Kovacs doesn’t talk anymore. Not ever, not since the Arctic, not since his mask was destroyed. Not a word since the night Rorschach died. AU for non-character death. SPOILERS. Oneshot. Can be slash or just really deep friendship.


**Title: **The Sound Of Silence

**Author: **IndigoNight

**Summary: **Walter Kovacs doesn't talk anymore. Not ever, not since the Arctic, not since his mask was destroyed. Not a word since the night Rorschach died.

**Feedback: **Yes please, yay reviews!

**Pairing: **None really, Rorschach/Dan if you squint.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Watchmen or the characters I'm just borrowing them for fun.

**Spoilers: **Yes, for the whole thing.

**Warnings: **AU. Slash if you squint.

**Author's Note: **So far I remain incapable of writing a happy fic with these two. Oh well. AU post-Karnak, meaning Rorschach didn't die. Can be romance or just deep friendship, either way. Not quite sure where this came from, but I like it. Read, review,

**Enjoy!**

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Walter Kovacs doesn't talk anymore. Not ever, not since the Arctic, not since his mask was destroyed. Not a word since the night Rorschach died.

He doesn't do much of anything actually. He walks through what's left of his city, carrying his sign with the words that he's still convinced are the truth, even in Veidt's brave new world. He does fight crime, there is still crime to fight, but now he just watches it, turns his back, because that's what he was ordered to do. And when night falls and the shadowed world that had always belong to him wakes, he curls up on Dan's couch and closes his eyes to it. Sometimes he actually sleeps.

Dan tells him to sleep in the guest room, to make it his, but he never does. He never explains why not either. He eats when Dan tells him to, bathes when Dan forces him, but he doesn't speak. If left to his own devices in the house he'll sit silent and motionless for hours, staring at the TV which isn't even turned on.

Something inside him broke that night, irreparably. Dan figures Walter forgot how to exist without Rorschach to guide him. It makes him sad to see this broken automaton that had once been so full of life, of vigorous confidence. He hates ordering Walter around; it makes him feel like some prison guard abusing his power. But the truth is, he is a prison guard, Adrian trusted him to keep Rorschach under control. What Adrian didn't know though is that Rorschach never left to Arctic after all.

He isn't abusive though, he convinces himself again and again. It may seem like he is, telling Walter when to eat, when to sleep, when to bathe. But if he didn't make him, Walter wouldn't do anything anymore. He'd walk around the city with that damned sign until he fell over from exhaustion.

Sometimes Dan wonders what goes through Walter's mind. Or does anything? Is his inside as blank and empty as his outside seems? Has he truly numbed himself so completely? Is there actually anything left inside that hollowed shell? Sometimes, Dan prays there isn't, he thinks it might be easier that way.

He knows this is largely his fault, and he's not sure if he regrets it or not. Many a night he's lain awake in bed, listening to those final betraying words over and over in his mind.

"They won't believe you anyway." Words that he hadn't meant to say, hadn't known he thought until after they'd left his mouth. Some part of him deep down knew they were true, but that wasn't why he'd said them. "Everyone thinks you're a sociopath, a nutcase, they won't believe a word you say about this." He knew the words would do serious damage, had half expected to get his face smashed in for saying them, but he'd never imagined they'd cut this deeply.

Even if he had known, he'd probably have still said them anyway. Because he was soft, he was a selfish, sentimental fool. Because having the hollowed out shell of the only person left who he truly cared about was better than having nothing at all.

Adrian had won Jon over, possibly Laurie too. He himself was torn, but preferred being alive to martyring himself to a lose-lose situation. Rorschach didn't see it that way, just as Dan had known he wouldn't.

He saw the twitch of a jaw tightening to breaking point under swirling latex, watched as gloved hands balled into fists, practically felt as blue eyes hardened to laser points.

"Why waste yourself on something that won't work?" The words were soft, pleading.

He'd never know what exactly went through Rorschach's mind in those moments as he looked from one to another condemning face. Then without a word he crumpled to his knees in silent defeat. Tearing the mask he'd clung to for so long from his head Walter threw it to the ground before him.

With one finger Jon disintegrated it into an ashen heap of melted latex, murdering Rorschach and leaving behind only a broken shell behind.

There was nothing left to say. So Dan had taken Walter home, using gentle, hesitant touches and soft meaningless words. Walter hadn't lifted a finger to push him away.

And that night when Dan carefully tucked him in on the couch, both too tired to make it all the way to the bedroom, he'd whispered two soft words into Walter's ear.

"I'm sorry."

He never got a response.


End file.
